Translation please
by Dagron
Summary: Collection of translations of my French One Shots. Latest: Things change. Okiya and Haibara watch the sun set while pondering the changeable nature of things... In Haibara's case, the changeable nature of her relationship with Edogawa.
1. Translation please

**Disclaimer:** This disclaimer applies to all One Shots posted here. I do not own any of the characters involved.  
The Series "Magic Kaito" and "Detective Conan" are the exclusive property of Gôshô Aoyama.  
I'm just playing around with them.****

**Author's note:**  
I will be posting here a collection of One Shots I have originally written in French.  
With the exception of this first one, all will be translated into English, because I can and wish to do so.  
One Shot contents will vary from humour to angst, amongst other things.  
I will therefore present the category and rating of each one shot above it.  
Hoping you'll enjoy…

_One Shot One:_  
**Note: **This first one shot is not a translation, but a one shot on translation, with which I have chosen to illustrate this "collection" of sorts.  
**Genre: **General & Humour (I guess.)  
**Characters:** Magic Kaito (Hakuba and Kaito.)  
**Warnings: **Slight Out of Characterness.  
**Rating:** K

**Translation, please?**

It all started out rather innocuously.

The students were preparing for their exams, and some of the teachers had decided to give them study hours, rather than try to cram in more lessons, for once.The English teacher was one of them.  
She came in, stated her plan, and wrote the basic syllabus on the blackboard, before sitting down at her desk.  
There, she immediately fished out a book from her pocket and proceeded to ignoring the whole class room, short of an atomic bomb.

I, myself, was pretty tempted to do exactly the same thing.  
I decided however to look around at my classmates well pondering the wisdom behind whoever it was who had decided that such a brilliant student as Hakuba Saguru should find his presence in English class compulsory.

Heck, the unfairness of it.  
My mother is English, and I was studying in London last year!  
I can speak even better English than our tutor!

Okay, that last bit was unfair of me.  
In Japan they teach the American hybrid of English, and I also know for a fact that being taught in London does not guarantee a mastery of the language… (Memories of some of the English bullies at my previous school come to mind.)

So I watched, bemusedly, the blunderings of the other teenagers around me for whom English truly was a foreign language.  
I have to give them credit though. The differences between the two tongues do make it harder for them than it is for their European counterparts.

A scuffling of a chair and the dragging of a desk distracted me from a rather interesting attempt a girl had been making at rephrasing what Joe Blogs' latest desire had been.  
I had been hiding my smile of amusement behind my hand, but this was wiped away when I noticed who it was who had pulled up next to me.

"What is it, Kuroba?" I said, speaking in English since it was obviously the good context to do so.

"Can you give me a hand here?" the dark haired boy said, grinning mischievously. He only slightly distorted the words, and his accent was rather comprehensible.

I raised an eyebrow.  
"What for?"

He leaned forward, showing me a sheet of paper he'd been writing various words on.  
"Can you tell me what this word is in Japanese, please?" He pointed at the roman letters involved.

I told him, then sat back expecting him to return to his proper place.  
He scribbled the Japanese equivalent beside the word, gnawed on his pen a bit, and scribbled some more on a free corner of his page.  
He then reread this and barred it out.

"What about this word?" he asked, pointing towards another.

I answered, and then, as an afterthought, I asked him why.

"Two seconds…" he replied absently in Japanese.  
He focused on his page, obviously trying to make sense of something. He obviously wasn't getting very far, as I noticed him scratch his head in annoyance.

"You know…" I said. "Those two words put together would have a totally different meaning."

"They would?" He perked up. We had both switched to Japanese now.

"What would that be?"

"Well…" I reflected on how best to describe it. It isn't always easy to find an equivalent for every English idiom. "I think the best way to describe its meaning is something along the lines of this."  
I explained.

His eyes widened, and then he chuckled.  
"I see, so that's what it means!"

'Good,' I thought. 'So now you can go away.'

The young magician, however, didn't seem to pay any attention to my wishes.  
"Would these two words put together find a new meaning too?" he asked, pointing out another expression he had scribbled on his page.

I blushed reading it.  
"Yes. Definitely." I replied. And I hoped he wouldn't ask me what those two innocent words meant when put together like that.

"So…" He egged me on. His smug smile indicated that he was very aware of my embarrassment.

I sighed, brushed my embarrassment away, and gave him the Japanese equivalent.

"Wow." He looked at the two words with a slightly more apprehensive look.

"Is that all? Or do you have much else you'd like me to translate for you?" I asked dryly.

"As a matter of fact, I do." He wriggled his hand in the air and, in one of those small puffs of smoke and confetti that were his trademark in class as much as in his night job, he produced a wad of printed sheets.  
"Do you think you could translate these for me?"

I squinted at the pile of paper he deposited before me.  
"And what would I get out of it? I trust this isn't for your revisions?"

"Course not." He grinned. I couldn't help but think he'd probably already stolen a copy of the exam papers.

"How about…" He continued, slyly. "Two weeks without any annoyance from me, whatsoever, and I mean it, and…" He did mean it, his eyes even screamed 'Kid being serious' at me. "And… apart from an obvious occupation for the next few English lessons… Oh, I don't know. A favour that a magician like me could owe you?"

I peered at the sheets.  
I estimated there to be around thirty, and the font size wasn't too small.  
Shouldn't be too hard to translate. Maybe I could even find something in them to prove Kaito was truly Kid the Phantom Thief, or some sort of clue as to his hidden agenda.

"Two whole weeks without any taunting or teasing whatsoever? Without any theft or trickery?"

He looked at me as if to say 'Don't push your luck', but nodded.

So this meant he was really serious about giving me leeway, and probably meant there wouldn't be any Kid heists during that same time.  
The offer was too good to pass up.

"Okay, I accept." I declared. "I'll give you the translation back within two weeks, okay?"

Why did I ever accept?  
I should have known he was up to no good!

No, he did keep his promise.  
At no point whatsoever did he insult me, tease me, or even approach me in a way that could have been interpreted so.  
There were indeed no Kid heists either, and I do confess that the translation kept me from getting bored during English lessons.

No, the problem was very much elsewhere.

At first I thought these texts were some sort of articles on the thief.  
His name and description appeared quite often.  
Then I noticed that officer Nakamori and I appeared at some point to be involved in the text for some obscure reason.  
What happened then I have no way of describing, and I most certainly will not tell you what the text described.

Suffice to say it broke my brain. Repeatedly.

It was the last page that delivered the final blow.

Deciphering some pretty obscure American net-speak, it become apparent to me that Kid the phantom thief, known to me as Kaito Kuroba in real life, had discovered that his fan club also existed on the other side of the pacific.

And his fans wrote fanfic.

**FIN**


	2. The Novel Heroine

_One Shot Two:_  
**Note: **To inaugurate the translations, I chose one of my shortest (ever!) One Shots.  
It's a Shinichi-Ran pairing I wrote for a French friend of mine. I can tell you, when I realised I'd actually written something _short_, I would have glomped her!  
And then I managed a drabble. Oops!  
**Genre: **Romance(?)  
**Characters:** Detective Conan Lead Characters (Shinichi, Ran, and a third.)  
**Rating:** K

_  
_**The Novel Heroine.**

Ran Mouri is very similar to a number of girls her own age.

She goes to High School, chats about their lessons with her tutors and classmates, dreams of romance and takes part in after school activities, such as Karate. She's interested in the latest movies her friends talk about, goes shopping with her best friend, and reads novels with heroines who care.

…But, unlike most seventeen year old teenagers, Ran really is like the heroines from those novels.

Ran the brave, who worries for her close ones.  
Even when she is sad and lonely without reason, she continues to smile, warming the hearts of those around her.  
Ran the sensitive, whose heart of gold is well known to all whom she has comforted, supported, or simply loved.  
Intelligent, she knows to make good decisions, and understands probably much more about life than most girls her age.  
Her generosity, of course, is only equalled by her devotion. There is a reason so many compare her to an angel.

And, just as it is the case for these novel heroines, Ran Mouri's life is not without trouble…  
Only daughter of a rather hectic father, she must withstand the absurd separation of her parents, and take care of the household chores.  
Her father's occupation isn't easy on her either. The murder investigations, stakeouts and other cases brought to her father's attention don't make for a very peaceful routine… Especially for such a sensitive and caring young woman such as Ran.  
Ran's toughest challenge, however, is facing the uncertainty. Where can he be, this childhood friend, whom she probably cherishes as much as her own heart? What if she never gets the opportunity to ask him that one question, or never gets to know of his true feelings, what would she do?

Indeed, it is hard to love a noble knight, gone to war, investigating some mysterious crime, never knowing when or how he will return.

But, like any true heroine, Ran bravely faces as best she can the different challenges her destiny creates, one after the other.

Maybe it's time she reached the "Happy Ending" she so deserves.  
After all, we may not be in a novel, but what prevents me from wishing her sadness to be followed by joy? From wishing Fiction to become a reality?

From my hiding place, behind the glazed door, I watch as she enters his hospital room.  
Tears of relief and emotion cascade from her eyes, but the joy I read in them are sufficient to warm my heart, and reassure me on the goodness of my decision.

He smiles upon seeing her, and weakly waves his hand. He is still weary from the treatments he was given, and also the fatigue that results both from the antidote's action and his final battle against those dreadful black crows.

Those two have no place in their lives for a shadow, no need for a figure who is only too aware of the black tragedies of reality.

I move away before he can start to wonder how this reunion came to be…  
Before she asks herself who that woman on the phone had been.

This is how I wish to thank them, and say farewell.

He no longer needs me. She doesn't need to know who I am.

And who am I?  
Ha, an idiot.  
A young woman, just like Ran.  
But unlike her, I don't believe in happiness, nor do I believe in fictional heroines.  
I have lived for too long in the dark side of reality.

Yet, despite all this, I too loved that knight. I too was attracted by this morsel of fairy tale.

But it is not for me…

I ignore my selfishness, these foreign feelings, and, just this once, I let the small part of light in me take over.

Be happy, Ran Mouri.

As happy as my sister once wished me to be…  
You deserve it more than I do.

Be happy, Shinichi Kudo.

And may you never have to fight such terrible battles ever again.

As for me, I depart to discover this new freedom you both gave me without realising, to try and fly with these grey wings.

Thank you for this precious gift named hope.

**FIN**

_Dedicated to Samiha, for her sixteenth birthday!_

(And in case you can't guess, third character is Shiho Miyano.)  



	3. Collision

_And yes, mainly because it's easier to translate than innovate. Sorry. X.x And feel free to (try and) shoot me at the end if you feel the urge..._  
---

_One shot three:  
_**Note: **The following is what you get when Samiha, although already spoilt by the previous one-shot, asked for a story where Ran is the narrator...  
It just so happened that I had an idea regarding Ran, that only needed some contrary idea added to it to become the original version of what you see below._  
_**Genre:** Tragedy(?)_  
_**Characters: **Ran, Conan and Haibara._  
_**Rating: **T_  
_

**Collision**

Everything happened so fast, I don't know what to make out of it.

I open my eyes.  
The fear that caused them to close is no more.  
I feel as calm as a rock.  
I see, without comprehending, what I have before me.

It is I, Ran Mouri. A young girl, barely turned seventeen...  
Am I facing a mirror?  
In that case, I don't look that well...  
My skin is pale, my cheeks are scratched, and there, at the corner of my mouth, a thin streak of blood flows.  
Something is not right...  
Somethi...

And suddenly I realize.  
My eyes are closed.

I hold back a scream. And then stop. I no longer have a voice to scream with.

In a fit of panic, I glance around.  
People, lots of people, a crossroad, cars...

Only then do I notice him, beside my strewn body.  
There kneels a small bespectacled boy on the brink of collapse.  
I cannot even hear the words he seems to mumble, I hear absolutely no sound at all.  
The silence is choking me!

However, as if I could hear despite my deafness, some notions come to my mind.  
A car, a collision.

I remember.

The Detective boys...  
Ayumi, Mitsuhiko, Genta, Ai and Conan...  
I was accompanying them to an Exhibition on Masked Yaiba, not far from the Tokyo Dome.  
To go there, we had to cross at the crossroad...

This Crossroad.

There wasn't much traffic, the green man was most certainly lit.  
There shouldn't have been any trouble.

Ayumi, Mitsuhiko and Genta were walking in front of me, Conan and Ai trailing slightly, behind me.  
The wind blew, an agreeable breeze, playing to the joyous voices of the children as it tossed around my skirt and hair.

And then there was the screeching of tires.

Intrigued by this unusual noise, the children and I turned our heads.  
A black car. Accelerating at full speed. Straight at Ai.  
The poor child was frozen on the middle of the road.  
Conan let out a panicked swear, Ayumi cried out, and the two other boys yelled.

There was no way to prevent the car from hitting Ai.  
At least, there shouldn't have been any.  
But there was a way. And I used it.

I died as a result then?

Ai...  
Did I succeed? Is she...?

I turn my eyes towards where I had pushed her, putting myself in the car's path in her stead.  
I am reassured to see the young auburn-haired girl alive.  
Sure, she is slightly scratched, and traumatized, but she is alive, and that's all that matters.

And the voice from no where speaks to me once more.

Professor Jodie, that woman with the gun, the previous time that I saved her life.

She's being targeted.  
It could happen again.  
That's just what occurred...!

But why? Why would someone want her dead?  
I glance around me, looking for the black car that hit me.

Of course, it is no longer here.  
And as a slight depression starts to take a hold of me, I feel myself descending, like a breeze, from the place where I was floating, to sit by my corpse, next to Conan.

Conan...  
How could I have been so blind.  
You are not simply 'Conan'.  
Shinichi...  
Non-existent tears make themselves known.  
How did I let myself be duped day after day, by each of your masks?  
It is you, I no longer have any doubt what so ever.  
I do not need an explanation.  
You have done, and always will do, what you believe to be right...

I recall asking you once what you would do if the culprit was someone you cherished.  
You told me that you would denounce them, after exhausting yourself looking for some evidence of their innocence.

I should have asked you what you would do if that someone was the victim.

I watch, saddened, the answer you give me without knowing.  
You cry, holding a limp hand.  
You cry as you curse yourself, while calling my name.  
And your thoughts reach me, like a breath of wind.  
"I love you, Ran. I love you. Don't go. Ran."

You don't even have the strength to rise upon the arrival of the ambulance, the policemen.  
You resist as they try to make you let go, as they put the body that was mine into this morbid bag.  
You let Ayumi, Genta and Mitsuhiko take care of answering the police's questions.

You cry.  
And I cry too.

But you aren't my Shinichi unless you manage to overcome your pain.  
You continue to blame yourself, to think it's your fault, and only your fault.

Ai, she thinks the same.  
Even if it's only at this very moment I realize that she's like you, trapped in a body that is not her own...  
That young woman half girl is frozen with terror, at the thought that it is because of her that I died.  
That had it not been for her...

But without her, it's you who would have died.  
Shinichi, wake up! I beg you!  
Shinichi...  
Three weeks have gone by, already?  
And you have yet to lift your gaze from the floor.  
The police have found my murderer, the driver of that black car.  
He had been paid and threatened so as to run Ai over.  
They had him eliminated, his death masqueraded as an accident.  
You know.  
You know who is behind all this.  
You know why Ai has not left her room at professor Agasa's.  
Why she stands so frightened, behind him, at my funeral.

Why aren't you doing anything?

Don't you realize the she, she can't take it no longer?  
That this terror and feeling of endless guilt will bring her to her demise?  
That your inaction will bring you to yours?

The evening after my funeral, Ai has fled.  
She left no message, no clue.

And without you to protect her, who shall stop them from killing her?  
Without her, how do you hope to rise again?  
Was my death for nought?

Shinichi, I love you, and to see you suffer so makes me suffer as much.

"Shinichi..."  
I know that you hear me.  
You lift your head, whisper my name.  
You have just awakened once more from your slumber and that horrible nightmare.

"Shinichi, you must protect her... For me..."  
Protect. The word slips through your lips, half regret, and half question.  
Your eyes open wide.  
You murmur the name Haibara.

But she has left, and you do not know it!

You pass by my parents, asleep on the sofa.  
You ignore the empty bottles on the table before them.  
You pick up the receiver, dial Agasa's phone number.

He tried to warn you so many times that she wasn't well.

You learn from his voice that she is no longer there.  
You hang up and rush to join him, to search for her.

But I, I know where she is.  
The voice that talks to me without my hearing a single word told me.

I remember the place. This other person that I sense, watching over you.

I see you looking in all the places that come to your mind, without any success.

Panicked, you return with the professor, to search through her things.  
She couldn't have been kidnapped, you are sure of that.  
She left of her own will.

You hardly even glance at that news cut.  
"Shinichi... The docks... Shinichi, remember..."

All of a sudden, I feel a gust of wind. That other person is by my side.  
With a single blow, the newsprint falls under your nose.  
You look at it.  
I see you start to brush the idea aside.

"Shinichi! It's there! She is over there!"  
For an instant, I despair at the thought that you cannot hear me.

Yet, after a long silence, you lift your chin.  
That wary air. You heard me.  
You are going to follow this unlikely path.

You ask the professor to start his car.

At last.  
Hope has returned.

Here you are at the docks, I follow.  
You can hardly believe your eyes.  
But yes, she really is there.

After finding your way past numerous identical containers, leaving the professor in the car "just in case", you discover her at that fateful place.  
The place where, shortly after you became Conan, we found her sister.

You wonder how the devil she managed to get here by her own means, but truly, it does not matter.  
You see her, crouching, trembling; her coat too thin to protect her from the cold of the night. She leans against a container, facing, without knowing, the very spot where Masami died...

At your arrival, she turns away her face.

But you no longer wish to ignore what is happening before your very eyes.  
You know that unless you do something, she will destroy herself.  
And that it would destroy you as well.

You defy her, she replies.  
You exchange bitter phrases, painful words.  
You strip your respectful misunderstandings to the bone, you express your pains, your sorrows, these truths that hurt.

She mentions her fears and you shout at her.

You never could deal with such things gently.  
It is both a fault and a quality of yours.

At last, your voices hoarse, you stop.  
The sound of the sea, of a ship leaving the docks suddenly fills your world.

You ask her if she too, she expects to leave you alone, abandoned behind.

Shinichi...

She tries to answer, but, hesitant, she falls back on her default sarcasm and pessimism.

You correct her.  
No. The antidote is not what interests you, hardly ever was, and certainly is no more.  
You do not wish to lose another to their evil hands.

They are the ones who took me away from your life, it certainly is not her fault.  
You do not wish to give them another chance.  
You promised you would protect her, and, at your words, I feel the breeze of that other person stir.

I can see her, she stands beside Ai.  
Masami. No, Akemi... The young woman looks at me, and smiles with the most melancholy that could be.  
Akemi rests an evanescent hand on the tired shoulder of her young sister.

"Ai... Ai, help Shinichi. Please."  
Don't let my Shinichi destroy himself.  
She doesn't seem to hear me.

You lower your eyes, letting her reflect on your words without the weight of your sad gaze.

She mumbles that she is an idiot, just like you are to her eyes.  
She stands up, you raise your head.  
She speaks with a cold and level tone.  
At last. Her fear is starting to dissolve.  
Sharply, she asks for forgiveness, more or less, and reassures you.  
Okay. She shall not flee.  
I died because of them, but all is not lost.

I know you would like to say it is, but you know that you would be wrong.

She continues, with a shrug.  
If one is to risk all that is left, she wants to repair her mistakes.  
She swears to you that she will make the antidote.  
Not for you, nor for her, but for me.

She will not have me dead for nothing.

At this, her voice softens.  
I glimpse the tears in the corners of her eyes.

You have tears in your own.  
I embrace you with my ghost-like arms, hoping to comfort you.  
You will live, you will overcome this challenge that is my sudden departure.  
I know that now.  
I smile as I cry in relief, with my phantom tears.

I notice, as I rise, that Akemi is similarly reassured for Ai.

You take each other by the hand, to return to the professor in his car.

Akemi takes my hand, and smiles.

And the wind blows, revealing to us your future.  
Your path will be long, scattered with trials, but I see you together, till the very end.  
You, protecting her with all your heart, and she coming to your aid when you least expect, revealing bit by bit her love and devotion for you.

You never were selfish or ungrateful, and you won't be.  
I am glad to know that you will not waste the love you were saving for me.

Two white wings carry me up towards the night sky. Akemi follows with her own blood red wings.

Just as the moon has been doing tonight, the two angels we have become shall watch over you both, for all the remainder of your lives...

**END**

**_And when I first finished this I was surprised yet again, for it was my first successful ConanxAi fiction. xX Yeay._  
**


	4. Red Snowflake

_Rating_: T (for death and blood.)  
_Involving_: Sherry and Gin.  
_Word Count_: Approximately 1520 words.  
_Author_: Dagron  
_Disclaimer_: I have no claim upon the characters involved. They're all Gosho's.  
_Note_: This is the translation of one of my participations to french site Naniwa's winter fan fiction contest. The theme was Winter. The inspiration was a snowy evening in Aberdeen, Scotland.  
_Title_:

**Red Snowflake**.

The snow was falling heavily.  
Flake after flake, tiny specks of white found themselves dancing around her, surrounding her.  
There were so many flakes that they seemed to hide her, turning her into a silhouette of grey in the white night.

It was as if she suddenly found herself under the sea, a piece of seaweed stranded amongst a swirling cloud of plankton.  
One of these rare landscapes that captivated you with their mesmerizing and surreal beauty.  
A sight that came, however, with a very wintry feeling. A feeling of icy cold.

She hadn't noticed it at first, tightly wrapped as she was in a long black coat and red-patterned scarf. But as she felt the falling snow tickle her face and melt on her auburn hair before trickling down her neck, the feeling of cold grew and grew, sending daggers of discomfort through her flesh.

But she had no wish to move, she did not want to return to the house of tragedy. Not yet.

And maybe, if she stood here facing the elements long enough, they could help numb her to the sight of the dark pink stain in the snow nearby.

The blood of that child.  
The white hand of the small corpse, like the rest of its body, was already half buried in a shroud of white.

The chill of the air around her was nothing compared to the disgust she felt when watching the crimson colour spread within the snowy mattress.

What-ifs, impossible wishes, and regret plagued her mind.  
She would never forget the betrayed look the young boy threw her, when he had seen her, revolver at hand.

The gun now lay at her feet, half buried in snow.  
She hadn't been able to shoot, but the child had been condemned from the start.  
She wondered idly whether she'd one day be as unfeeling as a cube of ice, as cold hearted as Gin, when he shot the boy in the back.  
She wondered whether it would really be a good thing...

Tears were threatening to run down her cheeks, but she could not allow that, ever.  
In the Organisation, to show one's sensitivity, compassion towards a victim was a sign of weakness, generally rewarded by the swift kiss of death.  
And Gin, being a devoted member of the Organisation, would most certainly be the one to deliver it without a frown.  
She wiped away the tears in her eyes with a gloved hand, trying to regain her usually calm and stoic appearance.

There was no way she'd let herself be killed because of something so futile.

Especially not by him.

Exasperated by her weakness, she turned her eyes to the sky and sighed.  
A small black hole could now be seen amongst the snowy clouds, allowing one to glimpse the glimmer of stars amongst the twirling snowflakes.  
That boy, his parents, the old man...  
All dead for nought.

She'd accompanied Gin and Vodka to investigate a rumour, which, as it turned out, was nothing more than a clever bait, a clumsy trap in wait for the organisation.

What was the boss thinking?  
What could honestly justify so many victims?  
Why should such an intelligent and charismatic man keep on chasing illusions?

The rare few times she'd been with the Boss, he'd seen right through her in a glimpse, and surprised her by his cunning. It was no surprise that Gin, Vodka, and so many others were so devoted to him.  
With him, everything seemed possible, even the impossible... Even the worse.  
She shivered, remembering what he'd hinted at then... Death-threats towards her sister, Akemi.

The sound of crunching snow from behind interrupted her thoughts.

Her heart skipped a beat, and without even thinking about it, her face took on a cold and sarcastic mask.  
It was Gin.

"How much longer are you going to watch the snow fall, Sherry?"

She turned to face him.  
Gin was a tall and imposing man, with a hard but now familiar face. She couldn't help but notice how, standing amongst the torrents of snow with his near-white hair dancing in the breeze, his menacing aura seemed to soften, melt away into that of the beautiful landscape. A rare occurrence.

"I was wondering..." She started to say...

"Hm?" He prodded, after she'd left her sentence hang a tad too long.

"I was wondering what you thought of the snow..." She lied.

He stayed still for a moment, seeming to consider what it was she'd just said.  
In the end, he threw his cigarette to the ground.

"It's not like you to ask such futile questions." He said, closing the distance between them in a few strides.

She couldn't help feeling that prickle of panic she now associated with various black organisation members. She never let it show though.  
Gin's face was showing an unusual emotion.

"Life is full of futilities." She answered with a shrug.

It was true after all. Trips for nought, useless thoughts... Futile deaths.

Gin grinned as he crouched in the snow. He picked up the gun Sherry had dropped half an hour prior. His eyes must have been really sharp to notice it there despite the freshly fallen snow that covered it.

"In that case..." He replied, standing up to give her back the weapon. "I must admit that I like to watch the snow."  
Sherry lifted her eyebrows in surprise, hardly looking at the gun as she took it.

The man stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating the landscape. There weren't as many snowflakes falling now, the remaining few gliding leisurely down to earth.  
At last, Gin raised a gloved hand in front of him, waiting for some snow to land there.

The young woman couldn't avoid noticing that his glove, just like his coat, was stained in black blood which contrasted darkly with his melancholic eyes.

"This snow which falls from the heavens, so white, so pure..."  
He brought his hand closer to him, so as to inspect its contents.  
"It's a bit like us human beings..."

His eyes darted over to the stone cold body of the child, laying in the snow.  
"We come to the world pure as lambs, but sooner or later..."

He slipped his hand back into his coat pocket, before finishing his sentence with a kick in the powdery snow, sending both earth and flakes flying.  
"We end up soiled."

Sherry was struck silent for a moment, but, realising her silence was out of character, checked herself.  
"I didn't know you to be philosophical." She hoped her usual cynicism hadn't abandoned her.

"I'm not." Answered Gin. His face had regained its usual iciness. "Come. We leave early tomorrow."

"For Tokyo?"  
"For Tokyo."

She could only wonder, as Gin lead her towards the country villa, whether it was on purpose he had placed himself between her and the cadaver, his right hand placed somewhat reassuringly on her shoulder. It hadn't escaped her notice that he had not remarked on her inability to shoot earlier.

"...Tell me, Gin..."

"What?" He asked. His chatty mood had definitely lifted.

"What happens when a snowflake refuses to be soiled?"

He laughed.  
"You finished your studies in the States recently, and I've only been supervising you for a couple of months, but I thought such a clever woman as you would know the answer to that question."

Fancy that. He hadn't used the word girl.

"A snowflake that refuses to be soiled by the earth, isn't a snowflake long."

He smiled cruelly, the way he did when speaking of a personal kill.

Sherry wondered if it was really true, glimpsing at the mountains to the north, barely emerging through the dwindling snowfall.  
Up there one could find glaciers covered in white and pure snow, renown as such for centuries.

However his earlier metaphor was not wasted on her, and she kept quiet.

"Say, Sherry. You favourite colour is red, right?" Said Gin, looking over his shoulder. Looking towards the dead child.

"Yes." She answered. "Blood Red."  
A colour she both loved and loathed. She associated it with the dissection sessions at university, where the colour was a mere backdrop upon which one investigated the theory of the human body. She associated it with blood samples, a true mine of information on the health, even the identity of a living individual. A red both bright and vibrant, bravely fighting for survival.

She had forgotten that it was also one of the colours of death.

"Good." Replied Gin, smiling.

He removed his hand from her shoulder, and together they returned to the home of the recently decimated family.  
They would sleep there, leaving Vodka on watch, just in case, and in the morrow they would leave these secluded montages for Tokyo, where Sherry would resume her laboratory research whereas Gin and Vodka would return to their usual shady transactions.

This trip had, however, without any of the involved parties realising it, sowed some of the seeds of the events to come.  
The obsession of Gin for a snowflake stained in red, it's transformation into a tear, and the long awaited arrival of a flower named hope...

END.

_Post note_: In case you were confused, this fic takes place before the events in Detective Conan. It is also a clumsy attempt at a Sherry and Gin, erm... Romance?  
And yes, Gin is not a brainless brute in my mind, so there you have it. Sorry if you find him out of character.  
I hope you enjoyed never the less.


	5. Whatever Permits

This here, ladies and gentlemen, is my participation to the Fanfic contest of April 2005, of the website Naniwa.

-  
**Whatever permits.  
-**

**W**ith a loud slam, the front door of the apartment is shut.  
"I'm home!" calls out a young woman.

Her voice is fluid, strong and present. We can easily imagine her shouting at us, or, if one has been really good, singing us a lullaby. But...

Her Japanese sounds a bit awkward to our ears.

That is because she speaks with an accent. An accent that clearly announces pride in her Kansai origins. Kansai, in case you don't know, is not the name of another country, nor a continent, but that of a region. Her accent is purely Japanese, and the frustration one can perceive in her voice betrays her fiery temper.

Kazuha Toyama, seventeen years old, has just returned home from school.

Not hearing any response, the young woman with a ponytail takes off her shoes, puts on her slippers, and heads straight to the kitchen, frowning.

There is a piece of paper on the table.

She gives a frustrated sigh, her keys finding themselves propelled with force onto the kitchen counter.  
She sits down, brooding but resigned, picks up the paper and reads.

"Idiot..." she whispers.

Her anger has vanished. Tears are forming in her eyes.

She drops the letter to wipe them away. Taking a deep breath, she stands and goes to her room. The girl comes back out, five minutes later, after having changed her clothes.  
She walks over towards a small Buddhist shrine set up in the corner, and then kneels beside it to burn some incense.

"Hi, mom." She says with a small sad smile...  
She's talking to the framed photo, which is settled on the small shelf, where one can see a middle-aged woman, a charming smile on her lips and her eyes strangely familiar...

Kazuha has her mother's eyes.

After praying, she stands up to head to the kitchen once more.  
There she turns on the radio, in an attempt to drown any unwanted thoughts, while she busies herself with cooking tonight's supper. She is prepared, and has already bought all the necessary food, so it isn't long before she finds herself chopping up the vegetables.

Her bad mood is starting to lift, and she even starts to sing along to the tune on the radio.  
The phone rings.  
Kazuha puts down her knife, turns down the volume, and goes to answer it.

She knows it can only be him.

"Hello?" She says, her voice giving off the false impression that she is bored to death... or raving with anger inside.  
The caller draws in a sharp breath. Obviously they've assumed it is the second case.  
"Ah... Kazuha? It's me. You got my message I take it?"

She should be frowning, but there is a taunting smile on her lips...  
"Yes, Dad." The inkling of blame in the capital D does not pass unnoticed.

Whereas the man starts to lose himself in explanations and excuses at the other end of the line, his young daughter can not help but ask herself how come her father, a strong policeman who has spent years fighting the lies and manipulating schemes of various criminals, never fails to be tricked by his only child's '_feel guilty and squirm_' trap.

He had promised to go with her to the temple tonight, and she'd made sure it wasn't an fake promise he'd forget...

They'd both forgotten the erratic nature of his work.

At last, the young woman takes pity on her father, and interrupts him.  
"I get it dad, no need to continue apologizing... promise me you won't come home too late and be careful. If you wish we'll go there as soon as you're back."

Relieved, her father answers accordingly... By changing the topic.  
"I was told that young Heiji is sitting his motorbike exam tomorrow... He seemed pretty tired when I last saw him; you think he'll do okay?"

This is unusual... Her father, worrying about an exam her childhood friend was sitting? Heiji might be stupid, but he's not useless.

"Of course he will! I even made him promise to go to sleep early tonight... But may I ask why you are inquiring?" Her voice takes on the tone she _oh_ so often uses when she suspects her father is hiding things.

"Ah, well... It's just that if he gets his permit, I'll have to start worrying about my only daughter falling off his bike!"  
He said this in the quick tone of someone who knows they're saying something silly but still wants to say it all before being told off.

"Dad!" As expected...

"Now, now, Kazu-dear, I'd better get going. See you later!"

"Wait a minute, you...!" Too late, her father has cut off.

Kazuha sighs, but can't help smiling...  
If her father is still able to tease her so, than he is no longer as depressed as she had feared when reading his note. Her mother might have been dead for over ten years now, but the anniversary of her departure was still a difficult time, as much for the husband as for the daughter.

Anyways... Her father's comment on her best friend has brought her thoughts back to the present, and she wonders what her mother would have thought of the prefect's young son as he is now.

She returns to the kitchen humming merrily, to finish preparing the meal and to put aside a portion for when her father gets back.  
She's just put the fish to cook when the news report replaces the music.  
She stops singing to listen, an odd feeling of dread making itself known in the depths of her heart.

The newscast reporter is talking of a homicide...

She turns down the gas, without turning around...

The news is being broadcasted live...

_'Please tell me it's not... Please tell me it isn't..._' she prays in her head.

The voice announces the presence of a young high-school boy.

"No..." she says, her eyes wide...

A young high-school detective, the pride of the region.

"Heiji!" she cries, turning to glare at the radio.

It's at that precise moment the journalist decides to announce his guesstimate as to how long it should take the young genius to solve the case, it's obvious he isn't the one going to have to suffer the wrath of Kazuha the following day!

-

**A**nd it is so that the next morning, at school...

"Idiot! Imbecile! Look at you; you look like a zombie!"  
Drowning under an avalanche of insults, the young man with tanned skin, half kneeling, lifts his arms above his head in an attempt to shield himself from her cries and the odd fist...

"You dolt..." he says in a cracked voice..."No need to shout...!"

He whimpers at each shriek that splits through his eardrums.  
"Oh yes there is! Weren't you supposed to sit your licence right now! Mister 'I've Already Failed It Twice'...!"  
Visibly Kazuha feels no pity at all for the tired detective.

"Let me explain, Kazu-..." He's cut off by a fresh round of decibels...

"Oh I don't need an explanation!"

Their classmates, normally immune to their frequent quarrels by now, are staring at them as if they were from planet Mars. The young girl isn't usually so persistent when the Kendo team's captain is in such a weak state.

Even their teacher, who just happens to enter the classroom, holds his breath seeing Kazuha grab a textbook with her hand.

"Idiot, idiot, idiot!" She punctuates each word with a slap of the book.  
"You promised me that you'd sleep well this time for your exam! And what do you do? Mister Detective finds himself involved in yet another murder case! At this rate you'll never get your permit!"

Silencing her by holding up his hand, Heiji Hattori, his hair in a mess and his eyes underlined by black bags, hoists himself up with a desk to reach for something in his leather jacket.

It's a rectangular card, which he shoves under her nose... She stares at the writing upon it, suddenly speechless, before facing her friend...

"And now..." He says, sitting down in his chair, "I believe we are in the middle of a class..."

Seeing this as an opening, the teacher gives a little cough and loudly begins the lesson.  
Slowly Kazuha returns to her seat, still amazed at what she had thought was impossible.  
Beside her, Heiji begins to softly snore...

-

**T**he day ends without Kazuha being able to get a decent explanation from Heiji as to the existence of a motorbike permit in his name within his coat pocket.

_It's not possible_, she thinks. _How could he have a permit at eight AM when his exam was at eight thirty!  
_She had followed him all day long, but he'd been either too busy answering the queries of his pals about the case last night, or catching up on the sleep said case had deprived him of.  
By now she was dying from curiosity... And the theories that come to her mind just get crazier and crazier.

But at last, the bell that signals the end of class tolls. The young girl, who doesn't count patience among her virtues, smiles.  
This is the moment she'd been waiting for.

The students depart in groups, chatting about their day, glad the school day is over... She turns to face Heiji's table.  
He's already gone.

"_Damn!_" she thinks, quickly shoving her books into her bag. She was hoping she'd be able to question him on the spot.  
She leaves the room at a quick pace, that's not quite running, her eyes scanning left and right looking for the dark-skinned man.

Strange. He always waits for her after class. They walk some of the way home together, teasing each other, sometimes shouting at the other. There wasn't any club activity today, so unless there had been a case...

No! Please let it not be another case! There's been way too many of those of late!

Now she's truly running.

"Hey!" Startled, it takes her a moment to realise someone has caught her by the arm.  
"Idiot!" says her friend, now fully rested. His green eyes sparkle with malice and vitality.  
"Where do you think you're going like that?"

"Heiji!" She looks at him with wide eyes; his head is covered by a motorcycle helmet.

"Hey, I've got my permit now you know! Catch." He tosses her another, smaller, helmet.  
"Normally you should wear a thick jacket too, but I think we'll do without just this once..."

"What?" she asks. She isn't quite certain she understands what he's getting at.

"Jump on!" he says, gesturing towards the bike at his side. "I'm driving you home."  
And at those words, he mounts his Honda, showing the example.

Seeing him bring his visor down, she pouts like a child, before pulling her own helmet onto her head and climbing on behind him... Noticing as she does so the pendant hanging around his neck.

"When will you tell me how you got this permit?" she shouts through her helmet. She feels as if she's been cut off from the rest of the world, the way it stifles most exterior sounds.

"Later," he replies. "For now, just hold on tight!"

And, gently at first, he pushes the bike forward... Before starting the engine with a racket that must be deafening without a helmet. Now she gets what he meant by _'Hold on tight_!'

Slightly ill at ease, she stiffens her jaw, half against the noise, and half because of the imminent feeling she has of falling. The memory of her father's jab from last night doesn't help her feel reassured! She tightens her grip around Heiji's torso. His solid presence helps her not to think about gravity, not to think about the hard and merciless road underneath.

His friend seems to feel her distress, he slows down. Pressed against his back, she risks popping open an eye to look through her visor. Fleeting shapes skid passed her eyes. For a short moment, she feels joy...

That is before Heiji leans over to the side, pulling her with him, his arms holding hers tightly against his torso. Unyielding.

-

A few terrifying corners later, they stop, both pulling off their helmets to heave a great sigh and breath some nice fresh air.  
Before shouting at each other again.

"Heiji! You could have warned me about the corners! Did you have to lean over that much!"

This time Heiji doesn't let her get away with it.  
"Idiot! It's either that or we crash on the road! You're supposed to lean with me, too! Speaking of which, did you have to hug me so tight? I couldn't breath!"

At these words, the two teenagers suddenly turn bright red and look away, each realizing what he'd just said.

"Wait a minute...?" They weren't in front of Kazuha's home, that was certain.

Noticing his friend's quiet surprise, Heiji leans over on the handles of the bike.  
"I thought you might appreciate stopping by here before going home." He confides, a trusting smile and tender look replacing his previously angry face.

They are standing in front of a small temple's gates. Nobody goes there, and Kazuha's really the only one who thinks of it as a temple. Leaving her helmet on the bike's seat, she approaches the tiny construction cautiously. It really does look like a miniature temple. Tender childhood memories come back to life. Moments spent with her mother, learning how to make luck charms, watering the flowers, playing in the park and singing songs. Memories from before the day a fatal accident stole away with Mrs. Toyama's life... Before she'd gotten to know Heiji...

She'd hardly ever mentioned it to him... And it's not as if she'd told him it was the anniversary of her mother's death...

Kneeling on the ground, she pulls out some of the weeds from the foot of the little building, brushes away some of the cobwebs and dust.

Heiji, still on his bike, observes her while smiling like a satisfied cat. She seems content, lost in her nostalgia, therefore he is content too.

Once her nostalgia satisfied, Kazuha returns to her friend, a brilliant smile on her face.

"Time to go home?" he asks.

"Yes... But before!" She prevents him from putting his helmet on again. "Tell me how you got your license before even sitting the exam!" She frowns, demonstrating that the answer is compulsory.

"You weren't listening when I was talking about the case last night, were you?" A superior air taints his teasing grin. "The examiner was one of the suspects, and to prevent the culprit from getting away, I used my temporary licence to chase after him on my bike. The examiner saw me and decided to automatically give me my permit. I went to pick it up just before school this morning."

At this, Kazuha's eyes beam at him admiringly... That is until a small detail caught her immediate attention... His bike had been at school for them to go home together, right? But in that case...  
"Wait a second, this morning? While you were literally sleepwalking! Please tell me you didn't hurt anyone."

Seeing Heiji's slightly guilty look, she goes on. "You didn't drive across the footpaths, did you!"

"I might have taken a short cut or two..." He answers, trying, without success, to disappear into the background...

Kazuha can't help seeing a mental image of her friend, still groggy, driving his Honda diagonally across footpaths, barely missing a bystander or two.

_'Really, he'll never change...' _she thinks. No wonder he needs an older sister to watch over him...

"HEIJI! You Twit!"

"Ouch! That hurt, you dolt!"

And that is the story of how Heiji got his motorbike permit.

-**End.**

**Author's note**:  
This fic would probably take place some little time before the DC time line. The theory about Kazuha's mother being deceased is Fanon (Fan created fact) because Gosho Aoyama hasn't made her appear despite showing the Toyamas eating over at the Hattoris.

I'd like to add that I have no experience whatsoever in motorbikes, be it riding them or the licence technicalities. The descriptions above were to the best of my imagination.

Additional thanks to my sibling and her other half for both inspiring this, and not murdering me for writing it (at least yet!)  
Also to Astarael for Beta-reading this translation for me.


	6. Moon Rise

_One Shot Six:  
Rating:_ K (safe)  
_Word count:_ around 430 words.  
_Genre:_ Romance.  
_Note:_ French version originally done on a prompt from magicneo given in chat. "Boat, steps, Kid."

**Moon Rise.**

Kid stepped calmly down the stairs to the outer deck of the boat. He stopped to look up at the starry night above. A few seconds later he heard the metallic chime of the steps, signalling the arrival of his 'prey.'

He smiled nicely towards her. She came near him, using a name that wasn't his own. He answered nothing, approaching her gently, before sending her to the land of nod thanks to a spray bomb.

He hadn't worn any disguise, or his recognizable white suit. His casual appearance had been sufficient, at the bathroom exit, to hook her on his line.

Being gallant, and refusing to dirty in her eyes the reputation of the one who's return she was pining for, he whispered one single phrase before her eyes closed for the night. A cruel phrase that might, who knows, give her nightmares, but that, in the long run, would be much more reassuring for her than silence.

"I am not Shinichi Kudo."

And it had pained him to admit it.  
The loving eyes she'd looked at him with, full of worry, but also of joy...

If he hadn't been a gentleman, if he hadn't known she would have started asking questions demanding the truth, when all he had to offer was lies... he would have loved to play along.

But he couldn't, he was not the man she loved.

He tried not to think about it, as he put on his second disguise of the evening. He contemplated his reflection in one of the ship's windows, seeing there Ran Mouri in the moonlight, with her red dress, the deck's small lights shining upon her.

A gust of wind came and ruffled his wig, and, for a short moment, his poker face was blown away.  
He thought he'd seen Aoko in the reflection.  
Aoko resplendent, mature, with eyes only for him...

He blushed.  
Maybe there was hope for him yet.

He pulled out of his pocket a thank you card he'd prepared in advance. He made a tiny white rose appear, which he attached to it, before leaning down to pin it to the top of the sleeping girl's dress. He took the chance to leave a chaste kiss on her forehead.

"Thank you, Ran Mouri."

And on those words, he returned to the party hall, so as to play around with a small detective and steal a pearl as black as the sea was that night.

But somewhere in the darkness of his heart, a small moon had risen...

**FIN.**

_Hahaha. Yes. One-sided Kid loves Ran. But only a smidgeon._


	7. She liked old wines too

**Prompt**: from a friend (Louna.)  
**Title**: She liked old wines too.  
**Rating**: 13 over  
**Genre**: Crack!pairing  
**Word Count**: 97 (around?)  
**Notes**: I dare you to tell me this isn't crack!fic ! (Although the humor might scar some.)  
Translated from french and originally posted in my journal.

_Written in chat for Louna-Darling_

**She liked old wines too.**

--

Ayumi had grown up, admiring from the start men who knew how to use their intelligence by putting criminals behind bars.

Her first love, Conan, was a doomed story. Who could've known he was really ten years older?

Her second love, Shinichi, was more successful, even if it didn't last long. It was that affair that started her passion for older men.

She smiled, putting her (rather more revealing than usual) cleavage at it's best, before ringing the door bell with her alcohol bottle wielding hand.

"Kogoro-chaaaan" she sang through the door.

--

_Kogoro x Ayumi challenge. DONE.  
Loune-sweetheart wrote me a Haibara x Hattori fic in exchange! XcD _


	8. When one's loneliness flies away

Notes: Be wary when showing pictures to pals on msn. Their response might awake your "Drabble-muse."  
Rating: Gen-  
Genre: Ran-Ai Friendship. (I guess. Claude would argue otherwise, I'm sure.)  
Word-count: 572  
Title:

**When one's loneliness flies away...**

Still no news from him.

Ran sighs as she looks at the screen of her cell phone. He may have retrieved his true appearance, his freedom to move out in the open, Shinichi Kudo isn't going to change. The door to the agency squeaks and opens, the young woman turns, surprised, not daring to believe in case she ends up disappointed, but never the less she is. It is not her childhood friend she has before her, but that woman, that Miyano Shiho who helped him return.

"Kudo isn't here?" She asks.

Ran can only shake her head, a sad smile on her face.

"Ah..." Says Miyano, letting her answer be swallowed by the silence. The agency is void of life, with the exception of Ran. Her father is probably out solving some case or, more likely, playing mahjong.  
An uncomfortable sensation runs along her back, as the atmosphere of the room makes itself felt. Heavy. Melancholic. Sad. No need to be a medium or a detective to figure out the cause.

Ran does her best to ignore her loneliness, and silently offers her unexpected guest a cup of tea. She accepts politely and sits on the agency's sofa... They're both in the same situation anyway, waiting for the same person.

Time passes with the ticking of a clock and the turning of magazine pages.

The moment of discomfort is gone, and Shiho feels her usual boredom come upon her... Till, that is, she looks up and comes across her comrade's gaze.

Ran may turn away, try to hide the tears with a smile and a wave of her hand, Shiho is not fooled. Shiho has way too much experience in this area, and after passing months in a child's body watching this woman from afar, she is not going to miss such undeniable signs.

Shiho remembers all those times where it was Ran, and not the professor Agasa or Edogawa, who had given Haibara the courage necessary to stand up again and believe in her future. Of all those insignificant yet vital little gestures...

She puts her magazine down, and in two strides she is by the detective's daughter's side. Before she can even protest or understand what is happening to her, the half-foreign woman is holding her in her arms, like a sister saying that yes, one can count on her, be it only to offer a shoulder to lean against. Ran takes a moment to overcome her surprise, to let herself go in the woman's embrace. Her friend's? Her friend's. It is good to feel comfort, she can't help but recall the time her mother was still living at home, the times Shinichi would protect her from the bullies in the class above or her father would protect her from the rain. Her loneliness flies away, leaving behind only a thankful smile.

The door squeaks and opens, but neither girl takes any notice. At least not until the shocked exclamation of a certain red-faced high-school detective. Thus their moment of intimacy ends, as Ran babbles incoherently away as she greets Shinichi, and the scientist let's free some sarcastic comment with a grin. Her words find their target, and, cursing at his far too vivid imagination, Shinichi can only smile, slightly embarrassed, at the two women as they laugh.

It is good to be able to laugh when one's loneliness flies away.

**END**


	9. Sherry's final reply

Notes: Another MSN triggered piece.  
Also kudos to the fanartists out there who picture a certain moment described in the fic. You'll know where.  
Rating: Teen for blood.  
Genre: Tragedy.  
Word-count: 1787 words.  
Title:

**Sherry's final reply.**

Gin stayed still for a long moment, pointing his gun without wavering at the head of the child that had just appeared. She had cried out some nonsense about being the one he wanted dead, instead of the teenage detective twerp that had returned from the dead by some unknown means; the twerp that had cried out an unfamiliar name upon noticing her arrival, just before Gin's shoe had forced him to keep quiet for a while. Normally Gin wouldn't have paid any heed to the ravings of a little girl, especially if she wasn't armed and was trying to distract him from his main occupations -murder and torture- in such a clumsy way. But something in the kid's manner of speaking, the intonation she had used while saying his codename, had made him pause.

His killer instinct was excitedly whispering the name of Sherry. He could smell her, the fetid smell of betrayal, wafting from the child. It was this very same instinct that had allowed him to notice the nosy Parker writhing at his feet, legs now mangled by the bullets he had used to put the snoop to his knees, to try and make him talk. This same instinct again that had confirmed in his mind the link between this detective and his current obsession, his favourite target.

That little girl, she had to be what? Only seven, eight years old? And yet she did not cry at the sight of her friend sprawled in his own blood, groaning from under the loafers of a man pointing his gun at her. Pfft, childish bravado? Yet he could see her small hand shaking, and she was schooling her face into a cold mask to hide her fear. A brave girl, yes, but not a stupid one. He couldn't help but notice how similar her haircut was to that of a certain scientist on the run, how the colour of her locks was identical to that in his memories. Her eyes were staring at him with the same intensity as during their last meeting...

"... Sherry?" A raspy whisper, carrying an incredulous tone he had never expected to hear coming from his own mouth.

"_Gin_."

Yes, it was truly her. She was the only one to ever pronounce his codename with such seriousness and still give it that touch of emotion and fear. But how...?

He removed his foot from the detective's head. The latter took a deep breath before beginning to cough fitfully. He had been a breath away from suffocation, but Gin couldn't care less. The only reason he hadn't sent him straight back to the realm of the dead was to question him about his survival, about Sherry... But Sherry was now offering herself to him.

He stepped up to her, the metallic eye of his Beretta still aiming between the two small eyes that were staring at his. Yes, she was staring at him with the exact same intensity as on that hotel roof, the night when he got the chance to see her blood stain the freshly fallen snow pink. But they remained the eyes of a child. Gin felt overtaken by the unexplainable urge to check for himself whether this was all real, or whether he was the victim of some elaborate illusion.

"Miyano Shiho," he said, searching for more confirmation of what his instinct was claiming loud and clear. The young girl looked startled for the space of a second before regaining her composure.

"My codename is no longer sufficient for you? Or have you already found someone else to wear it?"

An answer typical of the one he had known, of the one he had been hunting down with passion.

"Haibara...!"

They both ignored the cry that had come from the teenager left forlorn behind Gin. Gin wasn't worried that he would run away, for even if he tried, it would be harder for the boy to avoid Vodka at the door than it had been for a small girl with sufficient knowledge of his subordinate's habits. Sherry seemed however to be more concerned with giving her wounded ally an opportunity. An opportunity that, she well knew, had great chances of never coming into being.

He answered her question with a simple "no", before crouching down to her level and reaching out with his right hand to catch her shoulder. She tried to avoid his gesture, but he had anticipated that.

She was so small, and seemed so fragile. He didn't need to tighten his hold much to be certain that she could not break free. He studied her with his gaze, trying in vain to find some little detail that could explain away this trick of fate. What if it were Vermouth, once more teasing him, but this time through a child forcibly enlisted? He turned the barrel of his revolver away, so as to bring his hand closer to her face, brush his thumb along her jaw, push away a lock of her hair to double check that there was indeed no wig, no mask. Gin could even see the faint trace of a scar, at exactly the same location where a bullet had grazed the cheek of a runaway chemist one winter's night.

"I would have been content to have your head, Sherry," he said, his voice belying a certain disappointment, "but I doubt that the boss would be satisfied with the autopsy of a child's corpse as answer to all our questions."

"And what if I don't want to answer them?"

He couldn't help but grin as he felt the cold bite of the metal Sherry had just pushed up against his jaw. A downwards glance told him that it too was a gun, although a homemade version, if one were to judge from the lack or serial number and the unusual form of some of its components. This was exactly the kind of challenge he dreamed of. A tiny mouse revolts, giving the cat the illusion it has turned into a grand opponent, and thus making the inevitable death of that same mouse even more satisfying for the predator. The fact that her voice, despite the cynical and determined tone he already knew from Sherry, remained that, fluting, of a small child only strengthened that impression.

With a laugh, he replied.

"You well know that I've always had ways to find the answers I want."

And, his repartee complete, he took action. With a simple gesture, he grabbed his opponent's hair using his right hand and gave a sharp tug, bringing his own revolver back to her face with his other hand. It was a risky bet, but his instinct was whispering that it would take more than that to push the mouse into killing him. Especially if she had allied herself with an idealist detective, if she confronted him in the hopes of saving the boy, rather than finishing things with him. He saw her close her eyes in pain for the glimpse of an instant, and then nothing, as the sound of a detonation rang out.

He let out a muffled groan as he felt pressure against his eyes, nostrils, mouth, something both soft and spiky. He could distinguish with great displeasure what he could only describe as stalks, stalks with thorns scratching at his face. But he had not let go of Sherry. In fact, he had forced her to come closer by pulling her towards him, taking her in his arms as would a father. But she had not gotten away with it unscathed. The brutal arrival of what he could now identify as flowers in his face had startled him sufficiently to cause him to pull the trigger. He could feel a warm liquid flowing way too rapidly from the temple he had leaned against his neck. He knew that his ice-blue turtleneck was in the process of being stained red, the shade of red favoured by the one he had just killed.

His ears were still ringing, but he had no doubt that he would never more hear her trembling breath, that those fierce, nearly mocking eyes would no longer be there to confront his gaze. As if to confirm this fact, the now inert arm of the child had started to slip, freeing his face from a bouquet of blood-coloured roses that a fake Beretta had conjured up from nowhere. The flowers and the gun fell with a deafening clatter to the ground. With a calm gesture, he put his own back in his pocket.With his left arm, he lifted up the body he was still propping up with his right. He stood and turned to the detective that was staring at him, a watch with cross-hairs aimed at him. Gin was in no mood to show him any patience. His step swift, he approached him and crushed his wrist at the exact moment the teenager rushed to use the gadget. Gin felt a little comfort from the pained outburst that reached his ears.

"You are lucky, _twerp_." Gin's voice took on a particularly vicious tone. "Seeing how Sherry has now gone to the same place as the sister I sent off before her, your execution is delayed. You are going to answer our questions in her stead. But for now, quiet!"

He ignored the furious glare the boy shot at him. He could read in it feelings way too similar to his own current feelings. He took out his mobile phone from his pocket, and called his accomplice. After ordering Vodka to do a quick tour of the perimeter in case there was another of their pals around, before coming to find him, he gave one last glance to the bouquet of roses lying on the floor.

Anger, disappointment, guilt. Even a touch of incredulity.

He had wanted to give Sherry a glorious death; an execution that would have lingered, an explosive death, if possible with tears, at great minimum with an expression reflecting the terror he would have inflicted upon her soul. Here he was, carrying in his arms her lifeless body, like an older brother carrying a sleeping sibling. Now he could feel his eyes moisten, his pride shattered, his hopes swept away by an involuntary reflex.

Sherry had just died a beautiful death, yes, but he had been a poor executioner. Her final reply had been magnificent, but just as sharp as the thorny roses she had chosen to use. He had to admit to himself that he agreed with the boy lying at his feet, from whom he could hear a sob strangled with grief.

Sherry's final reply had come way too soon.

**FIN.**

_Thanks to Astarael for beta-reading this translation._


	10. Translated Drabble Collection

**Translated Drabble Collection**

The following is a small collection of a dozen "drabbles" (fic-bits aiming to be precisely 100 words) originally written in French, most of them rather old and prompted by friends. So expect an eclectic mix of canon pairings and oddness, and very few of them to actually be 100 words.

* * *

1. **Loss of confidence**  
_Heiji-Kazuha for Louna_

Heiji Hattori lives his day to day life without ever losing his self-confidence. There's only one person who can ever take it away from him. There she is. She has done it again.

So, she asks, what was this ever so important thing he had to say to her before dying? What had he to confess, when there was a gun against his head?

He is sorry, but he doesn't have the courage to tell her. So he says something silly, that he regrets. He has no other way of escaping from this torment.  
He isn't brave enough to tell her.  
"I love you, Kazuha."

* * *

2. **Header**  
_Footie moment._

"SHPOING! PYONG! PAOUNG!"  
Multiple collisions of a bag of air against the outer rubber skin of a ball, between one wall and one expert foot.  
"PON! PAM!"  
The young boy begins juggling with his ankles, then his knees, while grinning like a champion.  
...Moment of apprehension: the ball is balancing on his forehead.  
"PIM! POM!"  
And back to juggling between ankles. A smile as he prepares to shoot.  
"PIONGG!"  
And now for the header...!  
"SHBLAAGH! PING. Ping..."  
Conan is sprawled upon the floor, unconscious... The ball bounces gently away.

Why on earth did he not think to turn his super powered shoes off...?

* * *

3. **Spying Specs.  
**_Movie 6, anyone?_

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the exclusive pre-release session of Cocoon, the first-born of the latest video gaming technology! So as to fight corporate espionage, we require that you leave any form of recording device at the cloakroom. This includes mobile phones."  
With a sigh, Ran, Conan and Kogoro go to the cloakroom to comply. Once the chore is done, they queue to get past security and enter the hall proper. Kogoro and Ran are both through without trouble. As for Conan...

BIP! BIP!  
"Mister Mouri?"  
"Yes?"  
"Could you please explain why this child's glasses are full of secret listening devices?"  
Six suspicious eyes turn to Conan.  
"Oops?"

* * *

4. **Aborted guide tour.**  
_for YokoTsuno - Prompt: Hakuba, Kazuha, Kunai (or Shuriken)_

That visit of the Tokyo museum was quite cool. For once, Kazuha and Heiji had been alone while visiting the capital. Ran, her father and young Conan hadn't been available to come with them this time. Kazuha even made the scrumptious encounter of a nice young man with light hair who offered to join them for lunch, while telling them interesting tales about the various items on display.

It was only when Heiji threw a Kunai (Belonging to the museum! What an idiot!) inches away from Hakuba's face that Kazuha realised he'd been hitting on her all along.

* * *

5. **Night Trip**  
_for Neo - prompt: Bed, Train, Ran_

Ran had been taking the train more often, ever since Conan had been staying with them.  
Trips to Osaka, to see Heiji and Kazuha, trip to Hokkaido, to see Natsume and her husband, various trips to weddings, and so on...  
Sure, Conan would quite often misbehave during these journeys, especially if there happened to be a murder, but she found it really quite nice to be travelling like this, as a "family."

"But it is even nicer travelling at night..." She whispered to herself as she cuddled her pillow to the gentle sound of train tracks and her two companions' snoring.

* * *

6. **Mistake**  
_for Samiha – Post DC Shinichi-Ran, prompt: Octopus, Ink, Wardrobe._

No need to be Sherlock Holmes to decipher the scene.

An enormous octopus drawn in black ink on the wardrobe, a picture book used as reference to the splodge... Her husband in his chair, snoring without tomorrow, and from the upright piece of furniture comes the sound of her son's giggles.

If the child were to continue playing with the dart-watch, Shinichi would find himself with the title of "sleeping" in turn.

Ran smiled, having thought of a way to punish the young whipper-snapper spying on them from his hiding place.

Shinichi awoke to a lustful kiss from his wife. Disgusted sounds from their boy interrupt them. Both parents burst out laughing.

* * *

7. **Gift  
**_for Neo and KazuhaFansub – prompt: perspective, crayon, colour. _

Tracing a line with her red-coloured crayon, the young girl sticks her tongue out as she concentrates on the challenging perspective in her drawing.

The door squeaks and, afraid, the child hides her artwork beneath an exercise sheet and pretends that she is focussed on her additions. Satisfied by the auburn-haired seven-year-old's studious air, the man in the black coat nods before leaving the room.

She sighs as the door squeaks behind him and lifts up her master piece to admire it: two happy young girls.

"Happy birthday, Akemi!" She whispers.

* * *

8. **Firefly and Sadness**  
_for Claude-le-noctambule - prompt: rose,nostalgia.  
Sailormoon crossover featuring Hotaru Tomoe and Ai Haibara_

A grey rose next to an indigo rose, two young school-girls admiring them. Both of them remember with a nostalgic feeling a time when they too had blossomed: the beauty of adolescence, the tender love of a family member, a gardener, whether they are called father or sister.  
Unfortunately, with maturity comes the realisation that in life, there are also thorns and something even more painful: Death.

They are lucky, these two, to have had the chance to become buds once more, to find friends to help them forget their pain.

_(Author note: If you don't know Sailor Moon, Hotaru (meaning firefly) goes through a rather similar tale to Ai's.)_

* * *

9. **A certain notion of peace**  
_for the inspiring Sargon88 - prompt: mist, Kazuha, Kaitou Kid, Duel._

The sea mist recovers everything in the port of Osaka. An ideal environment for a fleeing thief, especially if he is dressed all in white as is the Kaitou Kid. Not that he was all that pleased with the ease of his escapade, though it was always better than joining the fishes in the sea. His duel with the Kansai detective will have to be for another time. And anyway, what kind of gentleman thief worthy of the name would dare get in the way of a young and tanned high-schooler wanting to enjoy a peaceful trip on a billionaire's yacht with his potential girlfriend?

For a certain notion of peaceful, naturally...

* * *

10.** Your smile**  
_for Claude, Sargon88 and Natalie - requires knowledge of Moroboshi Dai's past._

You would always smile during our dates. A peaceful smile, full of warmth, when you knew full well that this world was cold, that the night was all but silent. At first I thought you naïve. Afterwards I assumed you merely chose to ignore all that was dark in your life. But it was in the end, at our last meeting, that I finally understood. You knew full well that your life was stained with the blood of others, that you were but an orphan among many.

Your smile wasn't for yourself. You smile was for your sister. Your smile was for me.  
Your smile was for hope.

But now, it is gone...

* * *

11. **Suffering**  
_A touch of angst._

Yukiko and Yusaku have lived through many an adventure together.  
When one is wed to a renowned crime novelist who flees his editors by travelling the world, one sees many things. When the latter is a true magnet for murder cases, one learns to put on a brave face, to look at the bright side of things, as well as their dark side.

But nothing could ever prepare a mother for this.

Her son definitely took after his dad, yes, but she would have liked him not to have inherited her own hot-headed temperament... Her husband can only hold her in his arms, his expression dark, as she, her acting talents forgotten, lets her tears run.

The tears of a mother standing before her son's corpse... The tears of a mother at the funeral of her only child.

* * *

12. **Anguish**  
_More angst._

"Fool, I am such a fool..." She mumbles for the umpteenth time.  
How could she ever have allowed Kudo to convince her to take her own antidote, to come to this place? She holds back a tremor as she faces the gaze of her adversaries. She must not show them her fear, her weakness. She had never thought she would ever have to live through this situation again.  
Crossing her arms, a defiant act but also one that allows her some comfort as she tightens her grip on the shirt she had borrowed from Ran, she shows them one of her most emotionless glares.

And Kudo who is grinning like a fool...

"Class, let me introduce our newest student, Shiho Miyano. Please be kind to her." The teacher presents her to the room.

When at long last she gets to take a seat, Shiho has but one urge... To make Kudo pay for this anguish a hundred-fold.


	11. Much awaited vacation

Short one shot written for Lorine of the French web boards Beika Street, following her comment: "Hi, I'm looking for a ShinRan fan like me to write a romantic fic on this pairing happening at Shinichi's second home in Hawaii. [...] This idea is close to my heart yet I have no inspiration, so if someone is willing..."

* * *

**Much awaited vacation.**

* * *

Ran was sat on the balcony of the Kudos' holiday home. In front of her eyes she could see the magnificent Hawaiian landscape, hers to admire at will. It was so different from Tokyo: the ocean was so near, so blue, she could see the seabed from here despite being more than fifty yards away. The weather was splendid, warm enough that Ran was hesitant to put on anything more than a tank top. She would have gladly put on her swim suit to go and enjoy the beach along with Shinichi's mother, but...

Ran sighed. The time difference between Hawaii and Japan wasn't that great, and she and Shinichi had had no issues adapting. His parents had been here a couple of weeks already, and had prepared their rooms along with a fully comprehensive schedule of activities, at least for Shinichi.

In the week since their arrival, Ran had visited several tourist attractions of the island with Yukiko as a guide, whereas Yusaku, putting his writing work to the side to spend time with his son, was introducing the latter to his many resident friends who were more than pleased to teach or remind him of the basics of their trades. In the evenings the four would meet up for dinner in a restaurant of the adults' choosing to discuss their day. Ran never had much input in the conversation, the other three having already visited the touristic spots dozens of times. Shinichi however would eagerly explain in full detail what he'd been up to that day. His descriptions were so precise that Ran quickly lost track of what he was saying, while her admiration of him grew.

It was only on the seventh evening, as Shinichi enthusiastically described how he'd been taught to fly a Boeing airplane that afternoon, that Ran finally realised why she'd been feeling so dissatisfied with this summer vacation abroad that she'd been so graciously offered, after having awaited it so eagerly.

She hadn't come to see Hawaii. She hadn't wanted to spend her time with Yukiko. She had chosen to come and spend the holiday at Shinichi's side, and until now, she hadn't been given the slightest chance.

However she didn't say anything. She did not want to appear ungrateful after all, and it was good that Shinichi got to spend some time with his dad. She was just saddened that there was still and always this distance between them. She had dared to hope that now that they had started highschool that distance might start to shrink. What a dreamer she was, truly.

When the next day Yukiko offered to take her to the neighbouring town, Ran politely declined, claiming that she was tired. Yukiko thought nothing of it, finding the explanation reasonable, and encouraged Ran to do what she wanted with her day. When Yukiko left to go sunbathe on the beach, Ran refused nicely the invitation to tag along. So there she was, sat on the balcony, observing the scenery and mulling over her broken dreams. If things continued as they were, she might have to ask the Kudos if they could send her back home early under the pretence of homesickness. Not that she minded spending time with Yukiko; on the contrary, she admired her greatly. It's just that she was fed up of feeling so insignificant each evening when Shinichi spoke of all that his father had to offer him and of all the things he had enjoyed doing without her at his side.

It put tears in her eyes. She didn't enjoy feeling so disappointed, so unappreciative, but she didn't know what to do to improve her situation.

"Ran?"

Surprised to hear the voice of the one that filled her thoughts, Ran hurriedly wiped her cheeks before turning around.

"Shinichi? What are you doing here? I thought you were with your dad, visiting his volcanologist friend."

Ran couldn't help blushing as she saw him. There he was, nonchalantly leaning against the doorframe. His hair was dancing in the weak breeze that made the balcony so pleasant; his Hawaiian shirt was doing the same. His shorts were short, offering Ran the most agreeable sight of his legs. He had a curious expression on his face.

"Mom told me when we called her that you weren't feeling too well this morning, so I asked Dad if we could just spend the afternoon at the house."

Ran felt her face redden even more. To have Shinichi drop his activities because of her had not been her intention. It was slightly embarrassing.

"You know, you didn't need to come back here. Don't you worry about me, enjoy your holidays with your dad!"

"Because you honestly think I want to spend my afternoon looking at pebbles and hearing my dad tell me the many ways in which compared to him I remain an ignorant kid?" Shinichi retorted. "I'd much rather spend my time with you. Besides, one of his editors has at long last managed to catch him again. He's locked up in his studio till supper time. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later."

Ran smiled as she heard Shinichi state so clearly that he preferred her company. It didn't stop her from replying with some indignation.

"Ah, so it is when one is expected to stare at pebbles that one thinks to spend some time with their childhood friend, yet when Boeing crafts are involved..."

"Oye, oye... Don't pull such an ugly face. I'm not lying. I am honestly happy to have you here with me. In fact, I'll prove it to you: I managed to convince my parents to let you come with me scuba-diving tomorrow."

"Huh?" Ran barely dared believe her ears.

"Just the two of us. At least if you're feeling better by tomorrow and want to that is. You should see the fish around here, I'm sure you'll love it!"

Ran let loose a small laugh at the sight of Shinichi waving his arms about so energetically in an attempt to convince her. He even had a touch of red to his cheeks that made him look so deliciously cute.

"You're an idiot, Shinichi. It would be my pleasure!"

Confused at the insult being followed with a yes, Shinichi came to sit down next to her, his hands behind his head, eyes pleated and long legs stretched out in front of him.

"Honestly Ran, I'll never understand you..."

Ran watched him sulk for a good five minutes with a grin on her face. All her dissatisfaction had vanished in this one exchange. She was happy, and only felt immense gratitude for Shinichi, who understood her better than he could ever imagine.

She threw a towel at his face.

"I'll race you to the beach!"

When Yukiko saw Shinichi and Ran running together towards the salty waters of the sea, she felt reassured. It was good to see the two enjoying their vacation at long last.

* * *

**Fin**


	12. Things change

_One shot dedicated to Beika Street web board user Ai Yagami in response to their adoration of the Conan and Ai pairing. (Written in French March 2009)  
Beware, this fanfiction contains spoilers for book 60/episodes around 510 of Detective Conan._

* * *

**Things change.**

* * *

Beika 2nd district, house number 21.

The books adorning the numerous shelves of the Kudo library are covered in a fine blanket of dust. The windows, however, are covered with none. Thankfully so, as this enables them to better share the light from the setting sun. Its gentle rays glide past the envious tomes to illuminate the target of their jealousy. A simple desk, standing proudly in the middle of the room, is monopolizing the full attentions that are so desired of the room's only occupant. The desk is clean, if a bit encumbered by various volumes clearly borrowed from elsewhere. The man has cleared room for a laptop computer that he has just turned off. He lowers the screen the better to reach out for a glass containing an auburn liquid. The wood and leathers of the desk gleam with joy beneath the refracted colours of the beverage. The drinker enjoys a few sips before lowering his gaze to the glass he is holding. He observes through his glasses the amber colour so similar to that of his hair.

The table, the whole house in fact, have very pleasantly welcomed him despite being more accustomed to a dark-haired owner with a moustache than to a young student of sciences. He should not be there. He is neither the son nor the wife of the great writer whose domain this was. Yet as far has the house and its contents were concerned, this intruder suited them better than being left unattended. There is nothing worse for a home than to be considered a haunted house by the children of the neighbourhood; nothing worse and nothing more depressing.

So what the devil, of course the house cares little that this opportune occupant seems more interested by the occupants of the neighbouring residence than is reasonable. Without hindrance, it lets the man gaze through the window in the corridor leading to this room. It doesn't try to close the door to the library with the aid of a draft. The curtain before the glass remains fully drawn. Despite the fact that there are small trees and a wall between the house and its neighbour, they do not seem to stop the man from observing the object of his focus whenever his eyes leave his drink. On the first floor of the neighbouring home, through one of the many window panes that make the Professor's house so recognizable, he can see the young child. He can't distinguish much, maybe the colour of her hair, similar to his, perhaps even how she has her arms crossed. He can imagine the little girl watching the house hosting him with great fear and suspicion. In truth, he thinks, she is more likely to be yawning while watching night fall. She is but a child.

Yet... And yet...

* * *

Things change.

Ai Haibara, the child in question, looks on number 21 with tiredness in her eyes. The first time she had set foot in that house, it had been deserted. She had visited twice to determine whether or not its inhabitant back then, some Shinichi Kudo, was truly deceased. Dust had been everywhere, the electric and water meters hadn't budged an inch. On her third visit, she had been weak and had slumped before it in the rain, her suspicions confirmed. Kudo had survived and found refuge elsewhere, in the shape of a child; just as she had ended up finding refuge with professor Agasa.

And now the Kudo home, the very one whose abandoned condition had assured the Organisation of his death, was being occupied by a stranger, a very suspicious character indeed. The kind of being that when she had first met the newly rechristened "Conan Edogawa" the latter would have confronted without delay...

And yet he had been the very one to welcome that guy into his true home with open arms. Home that was oddly close to one housing the number one target of the Organisation she suspected this Okiya was a member of. After several months of teaching him the values of caution, reminding him of the possibly harmful consequences of any thoughtless acts, even tutoring him on the modus operandi of his "men in black" while ensuring not to give him any compromising excess of information, and this was how he thanked her? Honestly, whatever could she have fancied in him in the past, that tiny mystery-obsessed fool...?

She sighs. Her skin is now coloured gold. The setting sun is tinting her hair dark red, as her eyes stare out at the clouds. She recalls the day a little girl, not even eight yet, had captured a sunset in order to create a romantic memento with the prince charming of her young years. She had helped. She had been the accomplice. Yet only a couple of months before hand the same little girl had confronted her by asking if they were going to be love rivals; two little girls, rivals for the affections of a young boy who was really a young man and whose heart already belonged to another woman. She had never considered herself a candidate for his affections. It had been crystal-clear from the beginning for Haibara that the young Kudo's love was taken.

Yet... And yet...

There had been moments where she had thought that things change, that maybe...

It was silly, she knew it, but she couldn't help remembering a time when she had grabbed onto his shirt, tears in her eyes. He had stood there, struck dumb. He had greeted her as his enemy, and yet he had supported her as friend, a companion would, when they had only just met. Something had sparked, way back then, and since... Well since then...

In a football stadium, she had teased him. He wanted to know her age. In a European castle, transplanted onto a Japanese mountainside, they had been nose to nose. She learned to know him. A hotel on fire, he saved her life. She wanted to leave, to protect his. He convinced her to stay at his side. She offered him a chance, an occasion to declare his feelings to the other that he loves. He wasted it. He needs her still. She left him a coded message, convinced he'll solve it in an instant. She knows how he ticks now. She was in the dumps, fear preventing her from sleeping at night. He reassured her. Once more he saves her life... A life she had been ready to sacrifice for him. He teaches her to cherish that life, so precious in his eyes. All the while they share arguments, mind games and various conversations with a depth and mundane nature that preserve them from boredom.

So many insignificantly small moments, so many occasions, so many clues...

Reason has rules that the heart does not share. She knew she had no hope, and yet the young detective had found himself a place in her heart.

Yet things change.

Thanks to him, she has been able to freely enjoy the joys of a second childhood. Thanks to him, the dark black shades that had been tormenting her when she had run to him had bit by bit flown apart. Thanks to him, she had found herself with an unrequited love.

And thanks to him, she had a foe at her doorstep.

Oh, her love for him was well and truly dead. Now all that remained was a sincere friendship coloured with some irritation. He hadn't changed, but something had. She no longer has the air of mystery that had once allowed her to crease his brow on numerous occasions with incomprehension or fear. He no longer needs her so much for her knowledge, but more as a neutral witness for his deductions. They are now no more than friends. She's the scientist hiding in the basement and he's the know-it-all detective that acts as such.

Hopefully she'll manage to make him take her bad feeling about the new neighbour seriously.

Who knows, things change after all. It's not too late to make him see reason.

Yet... And yet... That Okiya... His aura seems so familiar.

* * *

**End.**


End file.
